Pretty Little Pet
by paynesgrey
Summary: It was the foresight that aroused him. Warning for character death. Sylar x Elle Oneshot giftfic.


AN: Dedicated to Jess for her birthday

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Pretty Little Pet

She was a pretty little thing. A shiny new pet and the pale, vulnerable look on her face excited him. She groaned, coming awake, and he frowned with slight exasperation as he inspected the two-inch incision he created on her forehead.

Little Electric Elle wasn't so easy to kill. He tried his usual game to take her powers, but she was ready for him. She let out a loud scream from the pain, but her powers came out on instinct, sending a current through her blood through his own telekinetic powers, pushing him backward.

She had slumped unconscious to the ground, a puddle of blood under her on the floor - still electrically charged.

Sylar cracked a smirk. She was formidable, and sometimes killing the willing and weak ones was boring. It pleased him to know that Elle was not boring.

And she was not whiny and so easily manipulated like Maya.

The girl sat up with a snap, and she eyed him in bewilderment, which soon transformed into a deathly glare.

Her breath rang through the room, soft and unsure. Fear laced in her words. "Sylar." It was music to his ears. The breathy moans of his victims - the shapes of their faces as he sashayed in front of them, waiting, ready to use a flick of a finger to expel their life and take their prizes for his own.

Elle, however, was being difficult, but it was the foresight that aroused him. Her inevitable end.

Rigidly, Elle backed against the wall, and like any prey, her eyes darted around the room, assessing an escape route and trying to find a sliver of hope that she could get out of this alive.

Sylar drummed his fingers in his pockets in titillation. He watched as Elle licked the blood that had poured from her forehead down through the grooves of her face onto her lips. Her mouth quivered, and it gave him the boost of satisfaction he desired. She clenched her jaw, noticing his pleasure in her fear.

Elle cracked the knuckles at her side, drawing the charge from the wires of the floor. Sylar looked around, and crackles of energy erupted spontaneously around them. She glowered, presenting her capabilities. Then, Sylar knew she would live up to his expectations. She wouldn't break for him without a fight.

His blood heated within his veins, and her eminent death hummed in his ears. The painter's powers itched at the tips of his fingers, and he longed to paint the climax of her demise.

"You're not going to win, Sylar. Daddy will..." She seemed to be desperate for words, but talk was not what Sylar was interested in. He laughed at her.

"I hope your last words are not about your daddy. That would be sad... Elle," he said. He lifted his hand, and he prepared his body for the onslaught of electric shocks. He'd slice her head open amidst the pain; he didn't care how many volts she would send through him. He'd adapt. After all, he was the superior being here. He always was, and he'd come on top just as he was meant to be.

In fact, he thought he'd give himself a handicap. He decided to show her just how much of her power he could take.

As soon as she blinked, Sylar had appeared in front of her. She inhaled a heavy draught of breath, shuddering as his body heat merged with hers. She froze, the charged air between them intensifying. He looked down at her sadistically and lovingly. He traced the back of his hand down her cheek and felt the inevitable shock. He grinned, locking his eyes with hers. He laughed, and she cried as his finger sliced through her. He groaned as bolts of her power climbed through his body. He hollered, laughed and growled, and he was winning as she was falling, and he stood his ground, shuddering off the lightning.

He licked his lips as his finger traced of her delicate forehead. She began to weaken, and his feet were steadfast on the ground.

He could take it. He could adapt. And he could prove he was strong enough to numb her power. And as her energy dwindled, the future with her power in his hands came alive in his mind, brighter than minutes before.

"Daddy," she whispered in defeat, and her face slumped against his chest.

Blood fell onto his hands, wet and fresh. He closed his eyes and felt her weight slump onto the floor.

The scent of her blood filled his nostrils, and satiated warmth filled his body. Lovingly, his lips met the red on his fingers.

END


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